Michael Simms: Nigel
I’ve been reading an obituary About Nigel The lonely gannet of Mana Island Who fell in love With a concrete statue And I’ve been wondering What his story says About desire Because I’ve come to believe Without desire there is nothing -- Nigel with no other gannets On the island Wooed a fake bird Building her A nest of dirt and seaweed Like Nigel we exist Only because desire urges us Toward the world You might say The beloved Is the world and the reason For the world We are desire Nothing but desire You might say -- Conservationists hoped The colony Of 80 fake birds Would attract real birds And establish a breeding colony But Nigel was the only gannet Who arrived and he stayed For her It’s important to know That without the reaching There is nothing Without desire we do not exist No matter if the beloved Is a fantasy no matter Whether memories Are real -- Nigel was a lovely bird One woman said But a bit confused He was likely kicked out Of another colony and so He came here The real and the ideal Live side by side On the island Noesis and noema Hold hands Or in this case Wings -- We want to believe Nigel was happy Living alone With her And then Three gannets arrived And built nests But Nigel shunned the new arrivals And remained on the other side Of the island With her Like many of us He preferred the ideal To the real -- We love. We hate We accept. We reject We exist only because we desire Last week Nigel’s body was found Next to his concrete love By ranger Chris Bell Who also lives alone on the island
Michael Simms’s books include American Ash (Ragged Sky, 2020).
Copyright 2020 Michael Simms.
Vox Populi 
My colleague, friend, artist and writer Nigel, a Canadian, lost his son unfortunately; as I watched and listened to him navigate the hidden chutes of grief over the past couple years, I find your poem to be sublime and multi-meaningful to me. I rail against my own desires, my own griefs, and as stable as concrete might be over human entanglements, I prefer the latter, and desire is often the currency I suspect. Nice poem. Nice obit. May we each have as nice a tribute. Thank you!
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Thank you, Nigel! –MS
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Lovely, Michael.
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Thank you, Kim!
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Lovely poem. We exist because we desire.
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Thank you, Vincent!
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As I look around at reminders of travel, reminders of peace, reminders of love. As I share another meal with Jizo, I understand.
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Thank you, Barbara!
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Your poem, and the story of Nigel made me cry, but that’s okay. Thank you, Johanna
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Thank you, Johanna! Yes, I was very moved when I read Nigel’s obituary. It made me think about loneliness and desire.
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Michael,
A powerful poem, rounded off with the final two lines, which got me up from the screen, while exclaiming out loud: oh my. -the desires this poem invokes, including your own- Grief touched by it, with wonder and the life force too. Let’s raise a toast to the old boy…and his love, who may survive him for centuries.
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Thank you, Jim! Yes, the objects of our love live beyond our reach.
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Right you are, Michael. What in the world’s merry-go-round (see the Rilke poem Nims included in early editions of WESTERN WIND), isn’t a Ponzi scheme, musical chairs, or worse, 3 card monte or a shell game with one hard pea and a hole in the table? Nice poem.
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Thanks, Kenneth!
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Michael,
This is wonderful. As I am currently heartbroken, Nigel speaks to me. And though the real bird has flown, I’m not quite ready for her concrete replacement. Maybe someday, but not yet.
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Awwww, Jose. I hope you heal soon.
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